


Beating Out Of Time

by eternaleponine



Series: Beating Out Of Time [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Accidents, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/F, Hospitalization, Single Parent Clarke Griffin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: Clarke and Lexa have been been best friends and roommates for the past five years.  When Lexa is in an accident that lands her in the hospital, Clarke notices something a little strange happening with the heart monitor every time she gets near.  She doesn't want to read too much into it, though; just because she has had a crush on Lexa for a while doesn't mean Lexa returns those feelings.  But when it keeps happening, Clarke can't help wondering... what if she does?Based onthis post.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Series: Beating Out Of Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135670
Comments: 114
Kudos: 926





	Beating Out Of Time

Clarke frowned as her phone started buzzing, her mom's picture lighting up the screen. Her mother rarely called her (she usually texted like a normal person) and certainly never at this time of day. For her to pick up the phone and dial at a time when she had to know Clarke was in the car...

 _Don't jump to conclusions, Clarke,_ she told herself as she turned into the school parking lot and eased into a space. _I'm sure everything's fine._

She grabbed the phone as it reached the last ring and slid her finger across the screen. "Hello?"

"Are you driving?" 

"No," Clarke said, her frown deepening. "I just parked. Why?"

"Good," her mother said. "First, you need to know that she's okay. She told me to say that before anything else."

"She—" 

_Lexa._

There was no one else her mom could be talking about. No one else her mom could just say 'she' about and know Clarke would know who she was talking about. No one else who would insist Abby reassure Clarke that she was okay before following up with whatever news she had to convey about just how not-okay Lexa was. 

This wasn't a Mom call. This was a Dr. Abigail Griffin call. 

And it was about Lexa. 

"What happened?" Clarke asked, trying to swallow the panic that clawed at the back of her throat. "What's wrong?"

"She was in an accident," Abby said. "She was on her motorcycle and got hit by a car. She sustained some serious injuries, but her condition is stable, and she was in good spirits, all things considered."

" _Was?_ " Clarke asked, her voice climbing the register into the dog-whistle range.

"She's in surgery right now," Abby said. "Her right hip and left leg are broken. The leg should heal up fine with just a cast, but the hip required surgery. The good news is she was wearing her helmet, so there were no head injuries. Not even a concussion." 

Her mother sounded pleased, like she really was relaying good news, and Clarke guessed she _was_ , in the grand scheme of things, but that didn't change the fact that Lexa had been in an accident. That she was hurt. That she could have been _killed_ and—

"When will she be out?" Clarke asked. "I want to be there—"

"I don't think she's going to be up for any visitors tonight," Abby said. "She'll be in surgery for a few hours yet, probably, and then she'll need time to recover. You can see her tomorrow." Her tone was genuinely apologetic, but firm in a way that Clarke knew by now meant there was no point in arguing. 

"Okay," Clarke said, even though it wasn't. 

"I'll keep you posted with any updates," her mother assured her.

"Thanks," Clarke croaked, because tears were welling in her eyes and swelling her throat. 

"I'll talk to you soon," Abby said. "I love you."

"Love you too," Clarke managed, then hung up and sucked in a deep breath, then another, until the urge to have a complete meltdown abated enough to allow her to get out of the car and head into the school.

* * *

"Ugh, Mom, you're _squishing_ me," Aden grumbled, trying to twist out of Clarke's embrace. "And _embarrassing_ me," he added when she still didn't let go. 

Clarke let out a shuddering breath and loosened her grip, brushing back her son's bangs from his eyes. He'd needed a haircut a week ago, but she hadn't found the time to take him. Lexa had offered to do it, but Clarke had said no, it was okay... mostly because he was her son and her responsibility, but also because she didn't entirely trust Lexa not to let Aden talk her into letting him get a mohawk, which he'd wanted ever since Lexa's friend Lincoln had started sporting one. 

"Sorry not sorry," she said, forcing a smile when he jerked his head away, but she could see the way a grin twitched at the corners of his lips. "You ready to go?" 

He nodded, grabbing his backpack and shrugging it on. He waved to his friends and after a quick peek to make sure no one was paying too much attention, tucked his hand into Clarke's. She squeezed it tight, and he squeezed back, bouncing along beside her out to the car.

He filled the ride home with a recounting of his day, and Clarke tried to focus on the words, although she didn't manage much more than an occasional 'uh-huh' and 'wow' at appropriate intervals. At home he bounded ahead of her, stopping in front of the door so she had to reach around him to put the key in the lock. As soon as the door opened he pushed inside, dumping his backpack in the entryway and kicking off his shoes. 

"Excuse me," Clarke said as he made a beeline for the living room. "Is that where those go?"

He stopped, heaving a sigh so big his shoulders lifted almost to his ears, and slunk back to put his shoes on the mat and hang his backpack on its hook. 

"Thank you," Clarke said. "Do you have any homework?"

"I did it at aftercare," Aden said. 

"Can I see?" she asked. 

"Where is the trust?" he asked, in the same way Lexa did when Clarke double-checked something Lexa said she'd done. Clarke screwed up her face, just like she did at Lexa, and Aden grinned, just like Lexa. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out his lunch bag, then his homework folder, handing it to Clarke for her to confirm that everything he needed to do was done. 

"Seeeeeeee?" he asked. "Told you." 

"I'm just doing my job," Clarke said, ruffling his hair and pulling him in for a hug. After a second he melted into it, letting himself be her little boy for just a moment. She held onto him until just before he started to squirm, then released him to finish his after school, pre-dinner routine while she went to the kitchen to pack his lunch for the next day and start dinner.

A few minutes later he came skidding into the kitchen, gripping the counter just at her elbow. She stopped chopping as his fingers crept onto the cutting board to steal a slice of cucumber and shove it into his mouth. "Where's Lexa?" he asked, the words garbled by the oversized bite. "Did she have to work late?"

Clarke set down the knife and crouched down, and she saw Aden's expression go suddenly serious, a little line forming between his brows like he knew just by her face that he wasn't going to like the answer. 

"She's in the hospital," Clarke said, taking his hands and pressing them between her own, "but she's going to be okay. She got into an accident and she hurt her legs, but the doctors are going to make her all better."

"Gramma?" Aden asked. 

"Gramma isn't her doctor, but she'll make sure that Lexa has all the best doctors at the hospital helping her," Clarke told him.

"But _Gramma_ is the best doctor!" Aden protested. 

"Gramma isn't a bone doctor," Clarke said. "Lexa needs a doctor who knows how to fix bones."

Aden frowned, pondering this. "Is she going to have a cast?"

"Yes," Clarke said. "She'll definitely have a cast."

"Can I sign it?" Aden asked. 

"I'm sure she'll let you sign it." Lexa would let him draw all over the whole thing if he wanted to; she wasn't good at saying no to him except when it really mattered. 

"Tonight?" Aden asked. "After dinner?"

Clarke pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Not tonight, kiddo," she said. "But soon." She squeezed his hands. "The most important thing is she's going to be okay."

Aden's frown eased. "Of course she is," he said. "She's _Lexa_."

* * *

Despite his confident tone, Clarke couldn't help noticing that Aden stuck a little closer to her than usual that night. Since they couldn't go to visit Lexa, he dug into their rather impressive stash of craft supplies to make her the Best Card Ever, his back pressed against Clarke's leg as she sat on the couch and he set up shop on the coffee table. 

"No peeking," he told her. "You can't see 'til I'm done." 

"Okay," Clarke said. "No peeking." She turned on the TV just to have some noise in the house to drown out her spiraling thoughts, but it didn't help much. She considered going to take a bath or clean the kitchen or something to relax, but as soon as she moved Aden gave her such a look of betrayal she sat back down again. 

Even though she'd promised not to peek, she couldn't help watching Aden as he worked. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated... which was something Lexa did, although she'd sworn she didn't until Clarke finally managed to capture it on film (or pixels – did anyone use real film anymore?) and Lexa couldn't deny it any longer. It made Clarke's heart hurt, but not in a bad way, that her son had picked up some of her best friend's habits.

It wasn't really surprising, she supposed. They'd realized a couple of years into living together, which was a few years back now – that it was unlikely Aden would remember a time when Lexa hadn't been part of his life. Back when he'd been younger – preschool or maybe kindergarten – and just realizing that most kids had two parents, and the majority of them had a mom and a dad, he'd taken to calling Lexa Dad, because other kids didn't understand that it was okay – maybe even better – to have a Mom and a Lexa instead of a mom and a dad. The first time it happened Clarke had been embarrassed, apologizing and explaining that he didn't know any better, but Lexa had just shrugged it off.

'I've been called worse things,' she'd said, and scooped him up and swooped him off for bath time. 

Now he was old enough to understand that families came in all shapes and sizes, but he still sometimes called Lexa Dad. Usually as a joke, but sometimes Clarke wondered if there was a part of him (like there was a part of her) that wished it was true.

And sure enough, when he finally handed over the card, it was emblazoned with the words: GET WELL SOON DAD in slightly lopsided block letters, accompanied by a drawing of Lexa with her leg in a giant cast that she was using a block a soccer goal Aden was shooting at. 

"You can't read the inside," he said when Clarke tried to open it. "That's for Lexa's Eyes Only." 

"Okay," Clarke said, and got down on the floor with him to teach him how to make an envelope to put the card in so she wouldn't be tempted. He printed Lexa's name on the front and propped it up against Clarke's purse where she couldn't forget it, then tucked himself under Clarke's arm as she scooped them both some ice cream. She even let him bring it to the living room instead of forcing him to sit at the kitchen table like she usually did (because there was only so much the carpet and upholstery could take). 

"You should bring Lexa some," he said, his spoon dangling from his mouth as he slurped up the last bite. 

"We'll see," Clarke said. "Shower tonight."

"Do I _have to_?"

"Yes," Clarke said. "You can take a bath if you'd rather."

"Baths are for babies," Aden said, rolling his eyes. But when he was clean and dry and in his pajamas, he rather sheepishly asked if maybe Clarke could read him a bedtime story tonight... which he'd also declared as being for babies when he started second grade. So she sat beside him on his bed and read him a chapter... and then another one because his eyes had begged for it even if his pride wouldn't let his mouth do so. She tucked him in and kissed his forehead, whispering good night and that she loved him, and switched off the light on her way out.

"Mom?"

Clarke looked back. 

"Will she _really_ be okay?"

"Of course she will," Clarke said. "She's Lexa."

* * *

The next day was excruciating. All Clarke wanted to do was go to the hospital to see Lexa – her mother had let her know last night that she'd gotten through surgery and everything had gone perfectly, and had texted her again in the morning to let Clarke know Lexa could have visitors – but she had to get Aden off to school, and go to work, and focus on the task at hand rather than obsessively watching the seconds tick by until the end of the day. 

She managed to sneak out a little early by rushing through a few things and leaving a couple of others to be a problem for future Clarke, wanting to maximize the time she had before she had to go retrieve Aden from Gramma, who had offered to pick him up for school to free up a few hours for Clarke in the evening. 

Her mother had given her Lexa's room number, so she was able to bypass the front desk, but when she got to the door she had to stop, taking a few slow deep breaths and bracing herself for what she might find. Finally, when she was as ready as she was going to be, she edged open the door and stepped inside. 

The first thing she saw was the bed, which dominated the small space, and then the monitors that guarded it like monoliths, tubes and wires extending from them like—

"Clarke."

Clarke's eyes finally snapped to the figure in the bed, who seemed smaller somehow. Her voice was tired but the tone was warm, like being wrapped in a hug and a blanket fresh out of the dryer at the same time. "Hey babe," Clarke said, closing the distance between them and leaning in to gingerly put her arms around her best friend and roommate... or at least drape them over her. 

"I'm okay," Lexa whispered, sending a shiver down Clarke's spine. "I promise I'm okay."

"I know," Clarke said, drawing away reluctantly and pulling up a chair next to Lexa's bed. Her eyes strayed to the monitors again, and the number in the one that monitored her heart that slowly ticked upward. Not too much, not enough to set off any alarms, but enough for Clarke to notice. 

Had she surprised Lexa? Or hurt her? Probably she was just happy for the company. That was enough to make your heart beat a little faster, wasn't it? 

"How are you?" Lexa asked. "I hope it didn't freak you out too much. I told your mom—"

"To tell me you were okay," Clarke finished for her. "She did. And it wasn't the best news I've ever gotten, but..." Clarke shrugged. "I'm just glad you're okay." She slid her hand over Lexa's, and the number on the monitor jumped up again. 

"Me too," Lexa said. "They said I'm lucky. It could have been a lot worse. But I do have a few pins in me, so I can look forward to a lifetime of being taken aside by TSA for special screening." She rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a smile. "On the plus side, I can now say I'm bionic. _Les_ bionic, even." She waggled her eyebrows and Clarke snorted a laugh. 

"You and your dad jokes," she said. 

"Blame the painkillers," Lexa said. 

"Yeah, no," Clarke replied. "Speaking of..." 

"Painkillers?"

"No. Dad." Clarke reached into her purse and retrieved Aden's card, handing it to Lexa, who opened it carefully like it might explode. (To be fair, Aden had once loaded a card with so much confetti they'd been finding it for weeks afterwards...) Breathing a sigh of relief when nothing fell out, Lexa studied the picture on the front before flipping to the inside.

"What does it say?" Clarke asked, unable to hold back her curiosity.

"Can't tell you," Lexa said. "It's for my eyes only." She turned the card just a little so Clarke could see the part where it said, in giant letters: FOR LEXAS EYES ONLY NOT YOU MOM KEEP OUT with a skull and crossbones underneath.

This time Clarke really laughed and held up her hands in surrender. "Fine," she said. "Keep your secrets." 

Lexa read the message in the card again, then a third time before tucking it back in its envelope and setting it on the tray next to her bed. "How did he take it?" she asked. 

"Better than I did, mostly," Clarke admitted. "He wanted to come see you, but you know how many germs are in schools, and—"

Lexa nodded, her smile going crooked. "My little petri dish," she said.

And now it was Clarke's heart that was accelerating, although there was no machine to announce it to the world. Because that's what happened any time Lexa referred to Aden as hers in any way, even jokingly. She was always careful not to cross the line between Responsible Adult and Parent, because that was Clarke's job and Clarke's alone... but she had been there for both of them so many times in the past five years, Clarke couldn't imagine their lives without her. So comments like that felt like a kind of validation, a confirmation that Lexa felt the same way.

But not _exactly_ the same way. 

They'd first met in freshman year of college, when Clarke was still trying to figure out how to balance being a student and a parent... in a place where not everyone knew about the latter. They'd quickly become friends, and after class one day Lexa had suggested they go grab something to eat. Clarke could have made up some excuse, but she liked Lexa too much to keep hiding a huge part of her life from her. So she'd told Lexa she'd love to, but unfortunately she couldn't because she had to go pick up her son from daycare. 

She'd lost a lot of friends when she'd gotten pregnant in high school, and how people reacted when they found out she'd had a baby at seventeen had become something of a litmus test for whether they were worth investing time and energy into forming a friendship with. 

There had been a single, excruciating moment where Clarke had thought Lexa would just turn and walk away, but then she'd given a little shrug, smiled, and said, "Picnic in the park then?"

In hindsight, that might have been the moment that Clarke started to develop a crush on her. 

Aden had taken to Lexa instantly, grabbing her fingers in his chubby hand and showing her all of his favorite playground activities (which mostly meant having her push him on the swing and wait for him at the bottom of the slide), then clambering into her lap with his peanut butter and jelly, and that had been that. When the girl Clarke planned to share an apartment with sophomore year dropped out and moved back home, and Lexa needed a new place to live after her relationship with her girlfriend ended, it had almost felt like fate. Asking her to move in had been a no-brainer, and they'd lived together ever since. 

The crush had waxed and waned over the years, but Clarke had never done anything about it. They had a good thing, and she didn't want to mess it up. But sometimes she thought maybe it might be worth the risk...

"He wants to sign your cast, by the way," Clarke warned. 

"I got a white one just for him," Lexa said.

* * *

Clarke went back the next day with flowers and a teddy bear Aden had convinced Gramma to pay for, which had its own little hospital gown and cast and crutches. Lexa was a little more alert – she'd gotten tired not long into the previous day's visit, and Clarke had left long before she really wanted to, not wanting Lexa to strain herself on her behalf – and again Clarke watched as her heart rate rose at regular intervals, dropping back down after a few moments only to climb again any time Clarke got close. 

Maybe it was just something that happened when anyone got near her, like her body was amping up in anticipation of possible pain if she got jarred? But when one of the doctors or nurses came in to check or change something, nothing happened, and they were far more likely to cause Lexa pain than Clarke was. 

_You're reading too much into this,_ Clarke told herself. _It's probably perfectly normal for a person's heart rate to increase and decrease following a trauma._

But that night in bed she'd scrolled through pages and pages of Google results, and couldn't find anything to substantiate it. She could ask her mother, but she didn't want to reopen old wounds that had finally scabbed over – specifically that Clarke had given up her dream of becoming a doctor (or at least put it on hold) when Aden was born and she'd realized just how hard it was going to be to finish school and be the best mom she could for him at the same time. Now that Clarke had a job she enjoyed and that allowed them to live comfortably, her mom had reconciled herself to the fact that Clarke wasn't following in her footsteps any time soon, but probably best not to bring up anything that might remind her of what might have been. 

The next day was Saturday, and she dropped Aden off with Lincoln for some 'bro time', as they called it. (And how grateful was Clarke that along with Lexa had come Lincoln? Even if gender was a social construct, she didn't have first-hand knowledge of the indoctrination boys went through in the process of becoming men, and a limited ability to counteract it. If she couldn't have her father around to model for her son what a good man – not a nice guy, which was a whole other thing entirely – was, Lincoln was a pretty good substitute.) He threw himself into Lincoln's outstretched arms with barely a backward glance, and had only waved goodbye at Lincoln's prompting. 

Clarke stopped at their favorite breakfast place on the way to the hospital, because Lexa had been complaining non-stop about how bad the hospital food was. Clarke didn't know if she was technically allowed to bring her food, but there was nothing about Lexa's condition that required a modified diet, so she figured it was probably okay. 

From the look on Lexa's face when she walked in with the bag, the smell of syrup and bacon wafting out and filling the room, Clarke had definitely done her good deed for the day. And Lexa's subsequent racing heart could be chalked up to excitement over finally being provided with something not only edible but delicious. 

Probably. 

Since it was the weekend, Clarke stayed longer than she'd been able to the last few days, talking about nothing and everything like they usually did, and if not for the machines and the cast and medical staff periodically walking in to poke and prod at Lexa, it could have been any other day. But there was always the monitor in the corner of Clarke's eye, the little number rising and falling over and over. At one point it leapt up when they were just sitting in companionable silence, and Lexa had the strangest look on her face and Clarke almost said something... but then a nurse came in and the moment passed and Clarke almost forgot about it.

Almost.

Finally Lexa started to get tired, and Clarke had a few errands to run that were easier without a seven-year-old in tow (like grocery shopping) so she gave Lexa a quick (or maybe not-so-quick) hug and told her to rest and promised to come back the next day. 

"I'll be counting the minutes," Lexa said, with a smile like her painkillers had just kicked in, only Clarke could see there was still almost an hour before the next dose would be dispensed. 

"Me too," Clarke said, brushing her fingers over Lexa's hand. 

55... 56... 57...

Clarke made herself turn and go and tried not to obsess about that stupid number on the monitor.

* * *

"I went and saw your girl yesterday," Raven said. She'd caught Clarke just as she'd gotten home from the grocery store, so Clarke put her on speaker and put the phone on the counter while she unpacked the bags and put everything away.

"She's not my girl," Clarke said automatically. Raven was convinced there was something more between them than there was, or at least that there should be, and she wasn't exactly subtle about making her opinions known. 

"Yeah, okay," Raven said. "I told her I know every trick in the book for how to make crutches not so much of a pain in the armpit, so she can hit me up when she's out." 

Clarke smiled. "I'm sure she'll appreciate that," she said. Although with it being her right hip and left leg injured, Clarke wasn't sure how much crutching around she would be doing. It was likely she would be in a wheelchair for a little while, and Clarke was already trying to figure out how to make their place more accessible. "And I'm sure she was happy to see you." 

"I guess," Raven said, and Clarke could almost hear her shrugging. "Not as happy as she was to see you, I bet." 

Clarke rolled her eyes. "I dunno," she said. "I think she must get pretty lonely. It's cute how excited she gets when people come to visit her." 

There was a pause. "What do you mean?" Raven finally asked.

"Like you can see her heartrate go up on the monitor," Clarke said. 

Another pause, and then a snort. "Yeah, that didn't happen for me." 

"What do you mean?" Clarke asked. "You probably just weren't paying attention."

"I was paying attention," Raven said. "Since when have I ever been around a machine and not paid attention?"

_Touché._

"Weird," Clarke said. "Every time I go to see her, it goes up. Other times, too, when I'm there. Just, like, randomly." 

"Is it random, though?" Raven asked. "Really?"

Clarke finally allowed herself to think about it. _Really_ think about it, in the way that she'd been trying not to think about it for the last several days. Because there was a part of her that wanted it to not be random. She wanted it to be about her, in reaction to her. She wanted it to mean something. 

"Maybe not," she admitted. "Maybe... it happens more when I'm near her. Like when I hug her or touch her or..."

"Uh-huh," Raven said. 

"But I'm not sure," Clarke said. "I feel like that's just..." she swallowed hard, admitting what she'd been struggling to admit even to herself for the past five years, "wishful thinking."

"So test it," Raven said. "When you go to see her tomorrow, test it. See if there's a connection between you touching her and her heartrate increasing." 

"Even if there is, though, that doesn't necessarily mean anything," Clarke said. _At least it doesn't mean what I want it to mean. What I hope it means._

But she couldn't let herself hope. Because if she did, and she was wrong... what then? Would they still be able to be friends if Lexa knew Clarke had a crush on her, or would it make things weird between them? If it made things weird, would it be so weird Lexa would want to move out? They could both afford their own apartments now – financially they would be fine – but after five years of living together, it would be like there was a Lexa-shaped void in the house, a hole that couldn't be filled by anything or anyone else. 

And what about Aden? How would Aden handle losing the woman who had been in his life for as long as he could remember, who wasn't his parent but might as well be? If they parted ways would Lexa still be willing to see him at least? Would that be worse than making a clean break? How would she explain it either way? 

"Don't analyze the data before you've collected it," Raven said. "Just do it. See what happens. If you're wrong... I mean, all you'll have done is touch her, right? Which you already do. If she really doesn't feel that way about you, if there's really nothing behind it, then she probably won't even notice anything is happening." 

Clarke suspected Lexa was too observant for that to be true, but if she did notice and wasn't comfortable with it, she would just pull away, right? And if she did, Clarke would back off. Experiment over. Message received. 

"Okay," Clarke said. "I'll try." 

"I look forward to receiving the full report," Raven said. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," Clarke said. _I'm going to need it._

* * *

"Thanks again for doing this," Clarke said as Lincoln tucked a sleeping Aden into the back seat of her car and buckled him in. She didn't know what they'd gotten up to, but clearly it had been exhausting. She just hoped Aden woke up enough when she got home that he could get into the house under his own power; there was pretty much zero chance she would be able to carry him if he was dead weight.

"Any time," Lincoln said, and Clarke knew he meant it. "You know he's my best little bud." 

"I know," Clarke said. She bit her lip, stopping only when she tasted copper.

"Everything okay?" Lincoln asked. 

"Have you seen Lexa?" Clarke asked. "I mean, have you been to see her? In the hospital?" 

"Sure," he said. "She was a little loopy on painkillers at the time, but..." He grinned. "Why?"

"Nothing," Clarke said. "Just... did you notice anything weird with her, um... with her heart? While you were there?"

Lincoln's smile slipped away. "Her heart?"

"Her heartrate," Clarke amended. "A couple of times it's gone like... up and down while I was there." 

"I didn't notice anything like that," Lincoln said. "Do you think there's something wrong?"

Clarke shook her head quickly. "No. Probably just something with the monitor. Maybe it wasn't attached correctly or something." She forced a smile. "I should get him home before he wakes up and gets a second wind." 

Lincoln's smile returned. "We went to the science museum _and_ the rock climbing gym," he said. "I don't think he's waking up any time soon." 

Clarke glanced through the window at her son, who was slumped over, so deeply asleep he was almost drooling. "You want to come home with me and carry him in?" she joked. 

He laughed. "I didn't think about that," he admitted. "Guess I should have let him have that second scoop of ice cream after all. Maybe the sugar high would have lasted a little longer." He winked, and hugged her, and stood on the porch waving as she got into her car and drove away.

* * *

"When is she coming _home_?" Aden asked, tossing restlessly on Clarke's bed as she changed her shirt for the third – no, fourth – time. Maybe the shirt wasn't the problem? Maybe it was the jeans. Maybe she should wear a dress? But she almost never wore dresses. Lexa would definitely know something was up if she wore a dress. 

"I don't know, kiddo," Clarke said. "Hopefully soon." _If I don't screw everything up._

"Well will you _ask_ her?" he whined. "She's going to miss my _game_." 

Clarke sighed. "I know. But there will be other games. I will ask her, though. I promise." 

He sat up and thrust out his hand. "Pinky swear?"

She hooked her pinky with his. "Pinky swear. Now can you go play so I can finish changing?"

"I don't even know _why_ you're changing," Aden huffed. "You're just going to the _hospital_." He slid off the bed and slunk out of the room, making sure she knew just how unhappy he was about the state of things.

He had a point. Why was she obsessing over what to wear to go see Lexa? Lexa had seen her in her grubbiest pajamas, without makeup, with the flu. Finding the perfect outfit wasn't going to change how Lexa felt – or didn't feel – about her. 

But maybe it would change how she felt about herself, and maybe...

Clarke hurled the shirt she was wearing toward the closet and picked up the first one she'd put on, sizing herself up in the mirror. It would have to do. She needed to be ready before her mom got here to watch Aden; she didn't want to lose a single minute of time with Lexa that she didn't have to. 

When her mother arrived, she hugged her quickly as she brushed past. "Hi, Mom. Bye, Mom. Thanks again. Love you!" And then she was in her car and on her way, hoping she didn't sweat through the shirt as her nerves sent her endocrine system into overdrive. 

Once again she paused at the door to Lexa's room, taking a slow deep breath before stepping inside, trying to keep her eyes on Lexa's face and not her heart monitor as she approached. But she couldn't help sneaking a quick look as she leaned in for a hug... and watched the numbers climb. 

They dropped down when she sat down and they started talking... only to rise again when Clarke touched Lexa's hand, or brushed her arm, or pushed back a loose strand of her hair from her face. Sometimes they went up when Clarke wasn't touching her, wasn't even looking at her... but Lexa was looking at Clarke. And a few times when Clarke smiled...

When a nurse came in there was nothing. No change. Not a blip. But as soon as she left and Lexa's gaze drifted back to Clarke that number rose, just a beat or two, just enough for Clarke to come to the undeniable conclusion that there was a connection. 

But what did it _mean_?

Another nurse came in, a different one, with a menu for Lexa to pick what she wanted for dinner, and Clarke realized she'd been there longer than she'd thought. She knew her mom and Aden would be fine, but she probably should get home sooner rather than later. 

The thought made her heart ache, knowing she was leaving a piece of it behind. The only time it felt whole was when they were together, all three of them in the home they'd made. 

"Oh!" 

Lexa looked up from the menu, her attention immediately and fully on Clarke, and the beeping sped up just a touch. "What's wrong?"

"I just remembered. I pinky swore that I would ask when you're coming home." 

"Next week," Lexa said. "Or I guess this week, since it's Sunday. Hopefully. It depends on how my hip is healing, but if everything goes well, the middle or end of this week. If... I mean, I'm going to need some help doing pretty basic things, so I would understand if—"

"I— _We_ want you home," Clarke said. "No matter what." 

Clarke could see the relief in Lexa's eyes, and it made her want to hug her, hold her, reassure her that no matter what she would always have a place with her, with them, that she would always be part of their family, that they would always be her home.

So she did. She put her arms around Lexa and held her for maybe a beat too long... or from the way Lexa's heart was speeding up, maybe several beats. When Clarke finally let go, Lexa's cheeks were flushed a faint pink, and Clarke felt an answering warmth in her own face.

"I should go," she said. "Make sure Aden hasn't driven Gramma crazy."

Lexa nodded. "Or burned the house down."

"That was my fault, not his," Clarke said. "And it wasn't even a real fire. Just some smoke." 

"A lot of smoke."

"A lot of smoke," Clarke conceded. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Lexa nodded, turning her attention back to the menu, or at least pretending to. But Clarke could feel Lexa's eyes on her as she headed for the door, and just as she was about to cross the threshold she heard Lexa suck in a breath. "Clarke."

She turned back.

"When this is—" 

62... 63... 64...

"When this is all over—when I'm healed—do you maybe want to—"

69... 70... 71...

"Doyoumaybewanttogooutwithme?"

The words came out in a rush, blurring together like Lexa's racing heartbeat that was still rising, and Clarke couldn't tear her eyes from the monitor even as she was acutely aware that Lexa was staring at her, waiting for a response to a question Clarke had never thought she would hear, and was afraid even now that she'd misheard.

"On a date?" she finally managed. "Go out on a date?"

75... 76... 77...

Lexa nodded.

Clarke nodded back. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I want to go out on a date with you. I want to go out on a lot of dates with you." She covered the distance between them in a few quick steps, taking Lexa's hand and squeezing it. 

"Thank god," Lexa said. "If I had to hold that in a second longer, I think my heart might have exploded." 

Clarke laughed, and even though Lexa didn't know why she was laughing, she laughed too, and then they were both laughing, holding hands and leaning into each other and cursing the railing of the hospital bed and all the wires and plaster (fiberglass, whatever...) that kept Clarke from being able to wrap herself around Lexa the way she wanted to. 

Finally the laughter subsided, and Clarke settled back into her chair, her fingers still laced through Lexa's. "I didn't know if you felt that way about me, and I didn't want to mess things up if you didn't, and—"

Lexa shook her head. "Do you remember the day I met Aden?"

Clarke nodded. 

"I was asking you out that day," Lexa said. "I mean, kind of. Not on a date, exactly. Kind of a pre-date. To figure out if you might be interested in going on a real date. But then you told me about Aden and I figured that ship had sailed. Or not, as it were. Even after I knew you were bi... by then we were such good friends I didn't want to rock the boat. Especially with us living together. So I just kept pushing it down and pushing it down, telling myself it was fine. I was fine, as long as I had you in my life in some capacity. But then..." She gestured to her legs. "It could have been worse. So much worse. And I realized life is short and if I didn't try I would never know and—"

"Thank you," Clarke said. "For being braver than I know how to be."

Lexa shook her head. "Clarke, you're one of the bravest women I've ever met. And smartest and strongest and—"

"Okay, okay," Clarke said, lifting Lexa's hand and kissing her knuckles. "Save something for our date."

Lexa smiled. "There's plenty more where that came from," she said.

"Are you sure it's not just the drugs talking?" Clarke teased.

Lexa wrinkled her nose, and Clarke's heart did a flip. "I'm sure." Her smile tilted. "It might be a while, though. Before we can go anywhere. I'm not exactly restaurant-ready." 

Clarke shrugged. "I'm okay with that." 

"Okay." Lexa ran her thumb over Clarke's, sending a shiver through her. "You should go," she said. 

"I should," Clarke agreed, but she didn't move. She just watched the number on the monitor and listened to its beeping, memorizing the rhythm of Lexa's heart now that she knew she was in it the way Lexa was in hers.

"Clarke?"

She turned, and when Lexa motioned her closer, she leaned in. 

"There's something I don't want to save for our date," she said, so close Clarke could feel Lexa's breath on her lips, and then they were kissing, and it was soft and sweet and everything she'd never dared dream it could be, and more, and Clarke's heartbeat rose in response, and she pressed Lexa's hand to her chest so she could feel it.

"I should go," Clarke whispered, when their lips finally parted to catch their breath. 

Lexa nodded, her eyes glassy and dazed until she blinked. "Tell Aden Dad will be home soon. I pinky promise."

"I will," Clarke said. She hooked her pinky with Lexa's, and they held on to each other that way for a moment before letting go. 

Clarke paused at the door and turned again. "Lexa?"

Lexa looked up from the dinner menu, her scowl turning back into a smile, and this time the numbers started dropping instead of speeding up, like it knew it could finally rest because all was exactly as it should be. 

56... 55... 54...

Clarke smiled back, and she suspected it would be quite a while before it faded. "Picnic in the park?"


End file.
